Emily’s Freedom

On October 30th, 2010, I stood in a room I had wanted to be in for years. It had a bed, a desk, a dresser, a lantern, a basket, and huge windows. From this second story perch Emily Dickinson composed her wonderful, strange, profound poetry.

Emily was born in the same house where she died. And with the exception of a few trips and a little schooling, she never ventured from her hometown. Ever. She lived for 55 years, becoming increasingly reclusive the older she got. She published seven poems under pseudonyms while she was alive, poetry that went practically unnoticed. It wasn’t until she died that the big discovery was made. Emily’s sister was cleaning out her bedroom dresser and found nearly 1800 poems in the bottom drawer. They were written in handmade booklets and on scraps of paper.

Four years after her death, Emily’s first volume of poetry came out and she was famous. Now, 124 years later, she is considered one of the most influential American poets; her work has never been out of print.

I drove to Amherst, Massachusetts with my niece, Anna. We pulled up to Emily’s house on Main Street, an impressive yellow brick surrounded on two sides by massive gardens. The moment we stepped onto this National Historic Site, I was looking for clues of how Emily did it. Was she simply brilliant, or was there some evidence of influence? Our tour guide told us that as soon as Emily’s first book came out, speculation about her largely private life began, speculation that has never stopped.

They honor Emily by sticking with the facts, only the things that are authenticated. I am compelled to do the same, simply observing some habits that made up part of her writing life.

A Period of Woolgathering

When Emily was 10, her family moved temporarily to a different house in Amherst. Her bedroom faced the town graveyard, and during those next impressionable years, she watched hundreds of horse-drawn funeral processions.

When she was 19, her father gave her a puppy she named Carlo. For the sixteen years of her dog’s life, they explored the woods and fields of Amherst together. Emily made extensive collections from what she found outside on these long hikes.

Contemplating death and observations of nature run heavily through Emily’s poetry.

Writing Practices

Emily was a voracious reader. Her family received daily newspapers and several magazines, all of which Emily read cover-to-cover. She read poets; Keats and Browning were two of her favorites.

She wrote at night by lamplight. Moonlight walkers consistently saw a light burning in Emily’s window. They didn’t know what she was doing. Though there were virtually no external rewards for her work, she kept writing. An internal force propelled her.

Simplicity

Emily’s life was very simple; there were few distractions.

She had only a handful of family and friends, and kept in touch with most of them through letter writing.

She baked. She read. She wandered through her gardens. She lowered baskets of gingerbread to her nephews and niece from her window. And at night…she wrote in her bedroom by lamplight.

♦ ♦ ♦

After the 90-minute tour, we were allowed to wander through the house alone at our own pace. Anna and I both gravitated back to Emily’s room. We sat on the floor, stood by the windows; we looked at each other across the room.

Can you believe we’re standing here, I asked Anna. She smiled and shook her head no. We kept looking at each other, smiling and shaking our heads because we knew. There was nothing more to say; and we could both feel the pulse of what had happened within those four walls.

When Emily died, the funeral was held in the library of her house. At her request, six Irish immigrants carried her casket from the house to her grave. She asked her sister to burn the thousands of letters she had amassed.

But she didn’t say a word about the poems in the bottom drawer.

Emily’s brother and his family lived in the house on the far edge of her garden. One time Emily’s niece, Martha, came into her room with her, and Emily pretended to lock the door so no one could get in. She looked around the room—at the writing desk, lamp, and paper. “Martha,” she said, “this is freedom.”

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –That perches in the soul –And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –And sore must be the storm –That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –And on the strangest Sea –Yet, never, in Extremity,It asked a crumb – of Me.

Beautiful descriptions of a place I too want to visit. I love how she told her niece, when closing the door to her room, “this is freedom”.
Thank you for bringing Emily’s life into sharper focus for me. And I love her house.

I appreciate seeing these pictures and hearing some of Emily’s story. It seems more real now, seeing her house and hearing from someone who has been there. I think the part about how internally motivated she was, without worrying about publishing or competing in the world is inspiring for me. And too, I loved hearing the lines where she acknowledged her freedom. Sometimes its hard to feel free when surrounded by so many limitations, internal and external. Also conversely, to have so many choices and know that you cannot pursue them all. However, the imagination is limitless and we are most free when we enter this realm.

Emily’s house and gardens are so much larger than I expected. The day we were there was Parent’s Day at Amherst College. The other people on our tour were college freshman and their parents. It was great to see young people learning about the literary master in the town where they’d spend the next four years.

You’re right. Emily was a writer, and that was that. It was how she expressed herself and made sense of her world. It wasn’t about income or prestige. In her work we see what happens when someone is allowed to write for writing’s sake. Not to sell, publish, or impress the masses with a best-seller.

Emily’s freedom isn’t the kind of freedom everyone is after. But she found her path and stayed. She wasn’t tossed away. It was inspiring.

I love that line, “Martha, this is freedom!” Sometimes when writing isn’t going well, I forget that I’ve chosen it willingly and that it is, in fact, the greatest freedom. Thank you, Emily, and thank you, Teri, for being our scout to these literary places and reporting back. As you know, my granddaughter-to-be will be a Boston resident and I intend to spend a great deal of time there. I think I’d better add Amherst to my itinerary.
I feel like I’ve already stood in Emily’s room with you and Anna…but I suppose I should go there myself, too.

Yes, I definitely support you adding Emily’s to your “must-see” list when you’re in Massachusetts. It’s so much better than the pictures show. Make sure you go early enough in the day so you can see the family burial plot. It’s within the iron gate enclosure in the picture above. Anna and I went at dusk, and ended up being in the cemetery after dark. It was wonderful (and slightly unnerving) to be in the historic graveyard at night…one old enough to have Civil War dates.

Emily made pretty radical decisions to have the freedom she wanted. She broke her share of social rules. The note I jotted to myself after visiting her home reads, “Eliminate the unnecessary. Do a few things well. Like Emily.”

I read “The Yearling” for the first time this year, and was fascinated by Marjorie’s description of Cross Creek, Florida. I went so far as to look it up on my atlas to consider going. How was it? What did you think? I know there’s a Visitor’s Center there, so I suspect you got the whole Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings story.

She was pretty bohemian for her day, wasn’t she? She would have fit in with Mabel Dodge’s crowd.

Teri, it makes me feel peaceful to read this post. What a wonderful place for a writer to live. I like that you stayed by Emily’s grave after dark. And spent extra time hanging out in her room. Do you think she ever got lonely?

It sounds like heaven to have that much time to sit in one’s room and write. No distractions. She seemed to have done what she wanted to do. I’m guessing she came from a family with some wealth? Curious about the background.

I’m saddened that she had her letters burned, the same way I was sad when I heard about Willa Cather having hers destroyed as well. At the same time, I can totally understand wanting to protect those close to her. Doesn’t it make you wonder what will happen to all of our notebooks of Writing Practices?

Speaking of practices, I really liked that you included that as one of your sub-headings. What Emily did to feed her writing, to fill the well. Another thing that struck me—-she was born and died in the same house. I’ve lived a few places across this country and am always in awe of those who remain in one place their entire lives.

Thanks for reading my post and for your comments. It *is* peaceful at Emily’s; an unhurried life where she took time to see.

Emily’s father worked at Amherst College, as did her brother. The yellow brick house is the family home. Emily never had to worry about earning her keep, getting a job, or fending for herself. Certainly an advance when she wanted to write into the night!

Despite that, it’s clear she had to narrow her life down to basics to be able to write. She didn’t do what she was expected to do as a 1800s Amherst Woman.

I can’t imagine leaving all my writing practice journals behind for people to read. I’ll be burning, too.

Teri, what was the library of her house like? Where her funeral was held. Curious about the Irish immigrants, too. I’ll probably be burning those notebooks someday, too. I want to reread them first though. 8)

What about your letters? Would you burn them? I save letters from others and love re-reading them. Partly to see a person’s handwriting. I’ve saved letters from Mom, my grandmother, relatives who have long passed on. Some from teachers I’ve loved.

I feel sad when writers burn their letters because you lose so much of who they were. When I read Flannery O’Connor’s letters, it was like stepping into her living room at Andalusia (which BTW, I sure hope I get to visit one day).

I had a similar feeling when I stood in the childhood home of Flannery in Savannah. It wasn’t where she did the bulk of her writing. But it was a place where her little creative self was born. And, I think, her love of peacocks.

The library is an average sized room, windows on two sides, shelves for books on another. There wouldn’t have been room for more than a handful of people at Emily’s funeral.

The Irish immigrants were men who had done work for the Dickinsons. It would have been more acceptable (socially) for Emily to choose people from the college to carry her casket, but she wanted people she knew. It is a short, pretty walk from the house to the spot where she was buried.

Yes, I know what you mean about authors and their work…all their work. It is a gift if they leave it behind, but I don’t blame them for not exposing everything to the world.

I hope you get back to Flannery’s and Andalusia. Has Georgia found the money to restore it yet?

Teri, I think I would have really liked Emily. She stayed true to herself. A simple life. So appealing. I think Andalusia is working on it. It’s so difficult for these places to stay funded. What a shame it would be if we lost these pieces of history and place. Part of the joy of going to New Mexico to study with Natalie is visiting the places of all the writers and artists who lived and worked there. Same for me when I go South. I just realized that I haven’t checked out writers from Pennsylvania. I wonder whose homes are near to where I grew up there.

I really appreciate you sending this piece to red Ravine. It’s a joy to post it. What are your plans while you are in Vermont? I am so excited for you — the gift of a month to do whatever you want to do that will fill the writing well! Space. Staring out the window if you want to. As a side note, the HGTV Dream Home 2011 is in Stowe, Vermont this year! Liz and I have been entering every day to win. Then we can invite all of our artist and writer friends to come for a little retreat.

Stowe, Vermont is very close to where I’ll be. The Vermont Studio Center is in Johnson.

There will be 38 visual artists and 12 writers, a total of 50 residents. There will be two novelists-in-residence part of the time: David Gates and Michael Thomas. The day hours are devoted to writing time in my studio, the evenings are for lectures, presentations, and socializing. There is a chef who makes sure we are well-fed three times a day.

There is a river, woods, and a picturesque New England town. Maybe Robert Frost will visit me there.

A splendid piece of writing! You really capture an air of exploration and respectful awe at visiting Emily’s house. Though I’ve been to Massachusetts several times, I’ve never made the pilgrimage to Amherst. Now I want to. That’s good writing (by both you and Emily).

I’m intrigued by you taking literary vacations. I’ve always loved the Dream Songs by John Berryman. I can’t cross the Washington bridge at the U of M without feeling Berryman’s presence. Have you considered putting out a book? There’s a potential for federal or MN state grants to pay for such a project.

I love this piece! Emily Dickinson’s poems are very close to my heart. My grandfather took me to visit her house (as well as the Alcotts) and introduced me to I am nobody and Hope is the thing among other favorites… But I never thought much about the details of her life or her writing process. Thank you for bringing her to life for me!

Congrats, too, on your Vermont journey. It sounds like heaven.
Frost will surely be there… the benefits of living on the road less travelled by.

What a cool grandpa you had! He must have loved to read. When I was in Boston, I wanted to go to Alcott’s home, too, but ran out of time. It’s in Concord, right? I picture it being like the movie set for “Little Women,” the one with Susan Sarandon.

You’re right…Vermont *is* the road less travelled by. It helps me to prepare for the long journey when it’s put in the context of a Frost poem. Thanks.

i loved this article. it illuminated emily for me. also the photos were terrific. every time i come on this blog i think it is terrific. why doesn’t teri do a whole series of writer’s who never left their hometowns. reynolds price died yesterday and he always stayed in a small section of north carolina.

Hi Teri,
Loved reading this, felt like I was sitting on the floor in Emily’s bedroom with you and your niece. I love her poem on “hope” but somehow had previously only remembered the first stanza. The ending shook me…”Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of Me.” What does hope ask of me, of you? Is hope always there, in our souls, without requiring we attend to it, look for it, treasure it, or even grieve for it when lost? How does hope relate to belief, or faith? I wonder how Emily Dickinson saw it? Her own rich interior world, a simple life…Thank you for sharing. love, Beth

Teri,
What a lovely piece! Many years ago I spent one of my best theatre evenings EVER in St. Paul, where Julie Harris portrayed Emily in a one woman monologue! A favorite actress portraying a favorite poet; it was magical!!
Thank you for sharing your experience, it made me feel even closer to Emily. (and you, too, m’dear.)

I think you’re on to something…writers who stay in one place. I read today that Reynolds Price said he wrote about North Carolina because it was “where he had perfect pitch.” There is something comforting and solid about saying where your roots are. I get that.

But don’t worry, I won’t just look for writers who never left Minnesota. I know you’re already a little worried about that. haha

I hope one day you, too, will sit in Emily’s bedroom. Anna and I were concerned (before we got there) that everything would be roped off, as museum homes often are. They keep it delightfully accessible.

Emily’s poem on hope always calms me. It’s no longer something I have to strive, strive, strive after. But just there. Maintaining. Breathe…let it surface. Emily stopped going to church because she didn’t like the theology or the pressure. Many of her poems speak of God and faith, though. The God and faith she found outside the acceptable dogma.

You’ll never guess! Before I went to Amherst I checked out anything I could get my hands on about Emily from the library. One of the items was a DVD of Julie Harris’s one-woman show. I know exactly what you’re talking about. At first I assumed you must have seen it at the Guthrie…but since it was St. Paul, maybe at the Fitz? I learned a lot about the “real” Emily from that performance…the same Emily that they talked about in Amherst.

What show are we going to next summer at the Guthrie? We’ll have to check with Lizzie.

I am so sorry to learn of Reynolds Price’s death. I have such admiration for him as a writer and a teacher. The life he led despite (or because or along with) his disability seems like it was so rich, deep, honest, and whole. Not to mention enormously productive. I know I’m off-topic here, but wanted to take this moment to remember Price. One of my personal heroes.

I just ordered the book of essays Price prepared for NPR. Do you have any specific books of his you’d recommend?

You know, I’ve always wanted to travel the country in a pickup camper as Steinbeck did in “Travels With Charley.” Can you imagine how fun it would be to do it while traveling to author homes? Wanna come?

Teri, I’ve returned several times to this piece to re-read it and savor the details. You have a knack for bringing your road trips to a reader who can enjoy the experience vicariously. Like the idea of visiting the homes of writers who write in one place. Road trip!!!

Thanks for re-reading and savoring; I appreciate it. The picture in the post of Emily’s garden (with her house in the background) gives the best sense of what it felt like there–roomy, lots of time and space, no rush.

You’ve heard me talk about my longing for a “Travels With Charley” trip for years. Now I just need that pickup camper…

I saw a video clip recently of a writer talking about writing. She said, “Just write about what you love. Just do that.” And this is someone I’d listen to; a person who has had great success and integrity in her writing.

It’s so tempting to look off at the horizon. “Where’s my idea? What do I do?” It’s hard, oddly, to love what we love…and just go with that.

I’ve been obsessing about poetry for 20 years. Periodically, I try reading W.S. Merwin and every time I’m turned away. I haven’t ever been able to clearly define what I find off-putting about his writing. It just doesn’t connect for me.

Have you decided about computer vs. paper? I opted for paper and it worked well for me, but there were many times I wished I had a laptop in Johnson. Probably the one big consideration is whether you want isolation for a month or not. Either way, you’ll be surrounded by supportive, creative folk. You will have opportunities for conversation and activities with your new acquaintances as you see fit, but would you like to have some isolation from your usual routines and people?

Teri, I’d love to see you putting out books. I think you should do it! Maybe VSC will be a leap in a new direction? This piece on the Amherst visit is great. I’d like to read more about this Massachusetts trip too. Next, VT?

Teri, just coming back to re-read all the wonderful comments on your piece. I had an MCAD art opening last night and was out all over the Twin Cities. What great support you have for a book! (I think it’s what the Midwest Writing Group has been trying to tell you!) What I like about your pieces on writers’ homes is that you distill all the information you get there into the most useful pieces for writers as it relates to writing and what feeds the writing. It’s a gift.

Natalie, thank you for stopping by red Ravine to comment on Teri’s piece. I feel humbled and honored. It’s wonderful to know that you see and sometimes visit the space that was inspired by what you taught ybonesy and I about practice, writing, art, and living as writers and artists.

It was strange because I was just thinking about you yesterday when I was driving around St. Paul. I passed the Schmidt Brewery on 7th Street. It reminded me of your painting of that St. Paul landmark. When I was viewing your paintings in New Mexico one year, you asked what I thought about that painting. I just looked for it on your website, but maybe it’s been sold. Will add a link to your paintings here: Natalie Goldberg’s Paintings (LINK). It’s inspiring to study with those who write and do art. So closely connected. Thanks again.

Oh! Thanks for the link to Berryman’s grave. I see that he died on January 7, 1972. Jumping off the Washington Street Bridge in the dead of winter seems like one of the worst ways to die. I’m reading “Journal of a Solitude” right now. In the beginning of the book, May Sarton is visiting a friend who is dying a lonely, sick death. He keeps saying to May, “I never thought it would end this way.” A priest I once knew told me that when people die alone it is so much worse for those who are left behind. I can see that.

I mainly want to go to the Vermont Studio Center and disappear from the real world. We so rarely get to do that anymore…always available by cell and email. Remember the days of going on vacations, and no one could find you?

I’ve got a week to hammer out the details. I do have a box of clothes and blankets ready to mail tomorrow.

On December 9th, 2010, Garrison Keillor did a benefit for the Emily Dickinson Homestead. He held it at one of the local Amherst churches, one that was standing when Emily was alive. Every seat was taken, plus people crammed into every nook and cranny. He raised $30,000 for the Homestead that night.

I read Cross Creek last year, and found an old copy of The Yearling at an antique store in DeLand, FL while I was there. What a good writer.

I certainly encourage you to visit Marjorie’s house in Cross Creek. It’s “old Florida” (no putt-putt, no motels, no traffic). I stayed at a one room cabin at a FL state park and toured the area by car.

And yes, I did the tour! A delightful man told us all about Marjorie, her guests over the years, how she kept alcohol in a cabinet, how she filled her bathtub with bottles of it for a party, and that Zora Neale Hurston came for a visit too. Actually, I have pictures of my trip in one of my FB albums (once you take a look, you will want to visit!)

Marjorie’s house is now very much like it was when she was there. Even her original typewriter sits on a table on her screened porch. If you decide to go, I can write more to you about what I did, etc, so that you will have a little more info about the area. I think the house has limited days of operation, due to budget cuts, right now, so check before you go.

Before I even look at your facebook pictures I’m in. A typewriter. Zora as a guest. A one-room cabin available. No Disney World glitz. Sounds like heaven! Since you live in Georgia, I suspect it was a reasonable drive.

I haven’t read “Cross Creek” but will add it to my reading list. The way Marjorie wrote northern Florida dialect in “The Yearling” was a surprise. A good one. Sometimes when writers attempt to write the dialect, it’s annoying and challenging for the readers to wade through. “The Yearling” wasn’t like that.

It’s fascinating to me how tied you are to Southern writers as a Southern writer yourself. It adds more to my life and knowledge base to hear connections other people have to their regional people. In Minnesota, we’re all about Louise Erdrich, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Sinclair Lewis. I think it’s important that we know our own people…those who came before us and walked the same streets we did. And then, just as amazing to get to know what was/is happening further away.

Teri – The first Reynolds Price book I read was A Whole New Life. I want to read his other memoir (s?). A Whole New Life is about his dealing with the tumor on his spine. The treatments left him paraplegic. What struck me most about the book was how matter-of-fact Price’s writing is, eloquent and not at all dramatic even though dealing with a major drama in his life. His attitude towards his illness and the resulting disability is constructive and practical, while also acknowledging his losses. Here is a line:

Come back to life, whoever you’ll be. Only you can do it.
How you’ll manage that huge transformation is your problem though and nobody else’s. Are there known techniques for surviving a literal hairpin turn in the midst of a life span—early or late—without forgetting the better parts of who you were?

Teri,
The one woman show by Julie Harris was at The Ordway.
I hope I can find the DVD of her performance in a WY library. I’m thankful that we have an inter-library loan system that includes the whole state!

Teri, I was thinking about you today and wondering if you were feeling ready for Vermont. I can picture you there. Have you decided about going electronic free yet? Hard choice. Do you leave this weekend?

I finally got a chance to read this post, and I am so delighted that I did! 8)

1,800 poems by Emily D.! Amazing! I enjoy reading her poems greatly. She is one of those poets who could say such profound things in so little words, and I admire that. Now that you posted one of her poems, I should go to the library and check out her poetry book and start reading her again. It’s been a while.

Also, I’m sure the trip to Amherst with your niece had been one of the most memorable experiences of your life, is it not? 8) One of my goals in life is to go and visit some historical place of one of my favorite poets. Maybe Emily can be on the list! Great photos, Teri! Wish I was there to experience and tour Emily’s house & freedom!

I know what you mean about Emily’s brevity, and being able to pack such breadth into a few words. Sometimes it takes me several tries to “get into” one of her poems, the way she wrote is unfamiliar to my ears. But if I stick with it, I turn a corner and am amazed.

One of the things I loved about Emily’s Homestead in Amherst was how visitor-friendly they are. Being able to wander unattended through the house was an unusual experience. I hope you’ll go.

Yes, I leave for the Vermont Studio Center this weekend. They are starting to send me emails about everything from being picked up at the Burlington airport to when the novelists will be lecturing. It’s exciting (and, I’m nervous!).

I’m going to try to disappear from the face of the earth as much as is possible in 2011. How often do we get to do that anymore?

I hope you have a great time at the Vermont Studio Center! I’m very excited for you.

Cross Creek is a little over 350 miles from Athens, GA. On the return trip I visited my niece in Columbus Ga, and found Carson McCuller’s home. The house was not open on the one afternoon I had there, though. But I do have a few photos of her house in another album at fb. Like you, I seek out the places the author walked, ate, lived. Alice Walker’s hometown in about 50 miles away from Athens, in Eatonton…but there is really nothing there except a cemetery where her parents, and a few siblings and other relatives are buried. There’s a falling in church too, and of course I have photos! Seems we writers must make these trips, it’s necessary food.

You are right about MK Rawlings and her use of dialect. She is a great storyteller, and I imagine she was a keen observer & listener, making her writing of the dialect easier, more fluid. Please let me know what you think of her book, Cross Creek. My favorite chapter is the one on cooking, and I also love her story about going out to help count rattlesnakes.

I’ll look forward to more of your posts here. Have a great time in Vermont. Lisa

Lisa, so exciting that you stopped by Carson McCuller’s home. And Alice Walker is part of the reason I’m a writer! I looked up where her home was the last time I was in Georgia. I grew up there and try to get back with my mother once a year to visit relatives and research family and memoir-related places. A few years ago, I visited Flannery O’Connor’s childhood home in Savannah. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and wrote a piece about it on red Ravine [Flannery O’Connor (Part I) — The House I Grew Up In (LINK)]. I keep trying to make it to Andalusia, but when I am there in Georgia much of my time is spent with relatives I rarely get to see. I also explore a lot of cemeteries with my mother in search of family tree tidbits. I am fond of visiting cemeteries to dig up pieces of the past.

Over the last 7 years, I have mapped out the writers in Georgia and am just thrilled to meet someone on red Ravine who has visited these places. I knew that there wasn’t much left in Eatonton for Alice Walker, but would still like to visit there one day. I know she’s lived on the West Coast for some time now. I saw her speak in the bookstore where I worked in downtown Minneapolis, it must be 5 or 6 years ago. I’d love to see her again. It’s wonderful to meet you here through Teri’s piece on Emily. One of the great joys of the community on red Ravine. Thanks for your rich comments!

Teri, It’s been a long time since I was able to disappear from the face of the earth, that’s for sure. I take it that means no laptop in February? It’s such a relief sometimes to go electronic-free. Seems to stop all that buzz around our heads. That’s one thing I like about the silent retreats in Taos. At least in the beginning, I never took my laptop and only checked my cell phone periodically. It would be harder now to disconnect since I carry a BlackBerry everywhere. It’s nice to be connected to family and friends instantly over great distances; also nice to take a break. I can’t wait to hear stories about your time in Vermont. Burlington is such a cool little town; I hadn’t thought about the fact that you’ll be flying into there. I will miss you. Have a wonderful time!

QM,
Alice Walker is part of the reason I am a writer, too! Seriously. I read The Color Purple when I was 20, lying down on a porch swing, in the middle of summer, and very unhappily married. The book broke me wide open, and I felt like my arms and legs had been cut off, then glued back on but on the wrong side.
It’s very nice to meet you, fellow Southerner. I’ll look forward to reading more from you here, too.
lisa

Carson McCullers home, too? Now I am really jealous. If you tell me you’ve sat outside Harper Lee’s house in Monroeville I’ll be green. When I was on the airplane coming back from Amherst, there were rows and rows of people wearing purple Vikings jerseys who had flown to Boston for a football game. I didn’t get it, until I realized they were going where they got fed, just as I had.

I haven’t read The Color Purple, though I’ve always planned to. When a book can penetrate during a difficult time (like your bad marriage) it becomes more than a friend. I wonder if you return to it from time to time, remembering that 20-year-old who had her heart broke open.

I didn’t know you’d been to Burlington! I think the airport will be delightfully small, like Fargo’s. I’ve been told by a reliable source that Vermont doesn’t allow billboards. Can you imagine? I hope it’s true.

Electronics: wonderful and terrible, right? On days when I only check my email once I feel released from so much noise. And yet, all handy. Moderation. Emily Dickinson would have used moderation.

Teri,
Well, you have to sit down and be green then…yes, Monroeville, Alabama. Took my time in the courthouse, bought a fan with a drawing of a Mockingbird on it (attached to a long popsicle-like stick), and did the little walk down the street to worship and be fed at the crumbling ruins of Truman Capote’s Aunt’s front steps, and the tabby remains of a wall that surrounded some of the property. There’s a little marker there, I need to find the photo we took and read it again. You walked the Edmund Pettus bridge too, I think I read this on another post, then you were not that far from Monroeville. Oh, that Alabama River. Gee’s Bend is near there, where the African American women make the quilts. We stopped in there and they were quilting in a little cinder block Senior Center. They chatted with me, encouraged me to learn quilting. Next door is a large community hall where they sell the quilts. I could go on and on about this, but will stop.

You’ve given me some good insight into sports fans…yes, they are going to there to be fed. I never thought about looking at it that way, thank you for that. Now I don’t feel so different from them, they are no longer “other.”

Funny, I can’t bring myself to re-read Color Purple. I have tried, but it scares me to death. It’s been 27 years. I refuse to see the film, because it will probably go ahead and kill me off!
I hope this does not discourage you from reading the book. Please do, when you get a chance. I’m so very proud that Alice wrote her heart out in it.
Lisa

Teri. The Color Purple. Yes. A must-read.
Thanks for mentioning Price’s NPR essays. I bought a used copy – it’s sitting on my desk as I type this, calling to me.
That and Journal of a Solitude – both these books feel like nourishment.
Again – Happy journey, internal and over land, through February in Vermont.

I had never thought about what remained of Truman’s childhood home. Could you imagine, as you stood there, he and Harper running back-and-forth to each other’s houses? If you have pictures of either, I’d love to see.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Holcomb, Kansas, and know plenty about who Truman and Harper were as adults during the period of research for “In Cold Blood.” Or, more accurately put, who the townspeople thought they were. I’d love to see what you have…to see what they came from as boy and girl.

I watch “The Color Purple” about once a year. After your comments (and Jude’s), I know I must read the book. Another of my favorite Southern movies is “Fried Green Tomatoes.” I’ll jump for joy if you’ve been to Whistle Stop, Alabama.

I’m having the Price book sent to me (from the bookseller) to Vermont. I’m trying to pack light for my trip, which means limiting the number of books I’m dragging along. There is a public library there we can use, and I hope they carry Alice Walker’s masterpiece.

Well, yes, then you better start jumping! In the heat of summer one year, my parents, my oldest aunt Anna, Mark and I stopped in Juliette, Georgia. This is where Fried Green Tomatoes was filmed, and we had a good old Southern meal at the little fixed up restaurant, near the railroad tracks. Of course we had BBQ (not human!), and fried green tomatoes (not quite as good as my mother’s, I must add). The film and book really keep this small spot going strong. Towanda!

I’ve driven my the Margaret Mitchell house in Atlanta, dozens of times, but I need to stop in one day. And I think I am the only Southerner who has not read Gone With the Wind…yikes, I could get kicked out of town with that remark.

Have you read To Dance With the White Dog, by Terry Kay? It was made into a film, maybe 15 years ago? Kay is an Athenian, and the book is delightful.

Teri, I will make a note to hunt for the pictures from the Alabama trip. I’ll tag you in the album, too.
I saw the the film In Cld Blood last summer, and loved it. Truman and Harper, wow, what an odd mix. They fed off each other, in a good way. There’s a fun cookbook a small press from Athens, GA (Hill Street Press) published about 10 years ago, featuring Marie Rudisill, Truman’s aunt. Fruitcake: Memories of Truman Capote and Sook. Marie was actually on the Jay Leno show, in DEC 2000, making a fruitcake, and promoting the book, and she was a pistol, all feisty, and nuts! I wonder if this clip is floating around the internet somewhere. It’s worth a look.
Lisa

OK, Lisa-Teri-QM–the three of you must meet at the next Southern author’s home, because it’s amazing the overlap and interconnection between and among you. It’s a kinship of pilgrimmage. Amazing to see and hear. 8)

I’m comparing you to Jude, another friend who comments on red Ravine. Every time I say to Jude, “Have you read such-and-such a book?” she says, “Oh, yes. I read that last year (or during college, or at the cabin or in the airplane).” She’s read everything, even though she thinks she hasn’t.

*You* have been to every author south of the Mason Dixon Line. I know, I know, you’ll say you haven’t, but I am impressed by your travel resume! And excited to meet someone who loves visiting author homes as much as me.

Is the Margaret Mitchell home her girlhood home? That kind of thing? Right after I read GWTW, the rumor started circulating that Margaret hadn’t written the book. What do you think?

I was astounded in Holcomb to see what a lasting impression Truman made on the town. I talked to people who remember him being there researching In Cold Blood. They loved Harper…Truman got much lower scores.

Hmmm, I’ve never heard the rumor that Margaret did not write GWTW. I’ll have to ask around. But I have heard the rumor that Truman wrote To Kill a Mockingbird, not Harper.

I will make it my mission to see the MM house, soon, and let you know more about it, Teri.

Seems we do have lots of shrines to authors here. Wow, I feel like I’ve been on the right path over the years, searching the stomping grounds of writers. I did live in Milledgeville when I was a child, for four years. Maybe the ghost of Flannery visited me, left an impression!

If you all great writers and lovers of literature want to come to the South, I would love to have you base your trip from here. Milledgeville is about 75 minutes from my home. Walker’s Eatonton is even closer. Columbus would be better as an overnight, as would Savannah so you could get a rich taste of the city. It sounds like QM knows this city well. And we’ll certainly leave time for a ghost tour.

Lisa, you used to live in Milledgeville? How much closer to Flannery can you get?! I love the link to the Southern Literary Trail. You have really been around to the literary sites in Georgia. Fantastic. I might just have to take you up on your offer some day and come to Georgia just to do the lit trail.

I think I’ll be down there this Spring with Mom. But have a lot of relatives to visit this trip. I wish I could spend about a month in Georgia, writing and making the rounds. I will one day. Maybe I’ll end up writing my book from there. You just never know.

It’s so great to have met you through red Ravine. I hope you will visit again!

Thanks for reading my post. The notes I jotted (the ones you mentioned) really name what I want to do with my life. It takes determination to live consciously. Sometimes I can do it, sometimes I don’t.

Teri, I’m thinking about you today on your way home from Vermont. I know you are trying to fly out from the East Coast in that huge snow storm that has swept up the coast. Hopefully, you are able to fly out to the Midwest today! Will it be out of New York or Boston? There is a light snow in the Twin Cities and 0 degrees. Minnesota is waiting for you.

Oh, I can’t wait for Minnesota. This was a first for me, stranded because of a snowstorm…looking at the Departure Board and seeing CANCELLED on every flight. Oy. Sleeping on airport sofas, then sleeping on a Greyhound trying to chase down an airport that is flying west.

I’m in Boston, waiting for my direct flight to Minneapolis. I may treat myself to a Boston tradition: Dunkin Donuts. Shall I bring you your favorite flavor?

Oh, thank goodness! A direct flight from Boston. When’s the last time you took a Greyhound? Wow, talk about good writing fodder. Emily would have been astounded at your journey. How could she have imagined?

I LOVE Dunkin Donuts. I’m a purist though, remember? Just plain glazed for me, fresh out of the oven. (My favorite ice cream flavors are chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. I used to think that was boring. Now I know, it’s kind of solid, like a rock.) 😎

Let us know when you get home. I can’t believe you couldn’t get out of Burlington, Vermont yesterday. Airports closed until Monday there? Wowie. I’m glad you aren’t flying home to MN last weekend. We had 18 inches of snow, wind, weather was terrible. Oh, Teri, it’s the birthday of Mabel Dodge. I’m asking her to watch over the last leg of your flight. Remember when you saw her ghost in her room at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House?

Ummm…I’m a little scared having Mabel watch over my flight. Her ghost was a little angry. Can you make a quick switch to Emily? haha

Here’s one good story from this crazy experience. I saw a man in an airport, he looked very familiar (as in from a book jacket), and I asked him if he was a writer. He looked very startled/upset/weirded out by my question. I said, “Oh, it just seems like I’ve seen your photo on a book.” He denied he was a writer, and then, a few seconds later he said, “Well, only if you’ve read _____.” And then he scurried away. Practically ran off. I looked him up online. Many, many books. I have reserved the two the Minneapolis library has. Maybe there will be some clues for me in those books.

Teri, that’s strange! What a weird experience. So I’m confused. Did you recognize any of the books he’s written? Remember when we saw Louise Erdrich in the Milwaukee airport? We were coming home from our Wisconsin Writers Retreat. At first, I couldn’t believe it was her. I’ll have to go back and find the link to that post I did and post it here.

Okay, no ghost of Mabel for your flight home! Emily will be there, guiding you along. I do get the feeling that Mabel was a difficult person. Yet she had this vision and was able to draw a lot of artists and writers to Taos. I admire her for her vision. Probably would not have been friends with her. But you never know! I felt her ghost, too, when I stayed in her room that one year at a Taos retreat. Scared me to death. I was sleeping in that big four poster bed that’s in her room. Cool room though.

Ah, the look and the poetry book drew you in. 8) Hope your flight with Emily goes well.

I wanted to mention that I heard Garrison on MPR (either this week or last) and he mentioned Emily Dickinson, how reclusive she was, how she hid her little pieces of paper away, did not become famous until after her death. It was a great talk, Garrison-style. I’ll try to find a link. I’d like to hear it again.

__________________

Oh, Teri, I just found the link where Garrison mentions Emily Dickinson. Other great points in his talk as well. Worth the listen:

“A Prairie Home Companion” host and creator Garrison Keillor speaks to an audience at Concordia University in St. Paul about the challenges he’s had to face as a writer and how his upbringing has helped him deal with them.

Teri, Liz is following you on the Delta site and right this minute, you are at 26,500 feet, 14 minutes into your direct flight back from Boston to MSP in Minnesota. I bet you can’t believe it! You are making progress home from your month at the Vermont Studio Center, via Burlington, via Greyhound bus, via Boston. Still snowy and 3 degrees in the Twin Cities. Safe travels.

Dear Teri,
This may be an inappropriate venue to address a private message to you, but I am having a surprisingly hard time discovering your email address, and I am so excited to read your pieces here, that perhaps it is appropriate after all. By all rights, I should have addressed this message to you as Ms. Blair, since I am almost certain that you were my teacher at Sheridan Elementary School. Your classroom was one of the most important ones of my childhood, not just because you were an all-around fantastic teacher and lovely person, but because of the use you made of sign language in the classroom. I have been thinking of you a lot lately, as my one-year-old son finally begins to demonstrate that he has learned the sign language I have been using with him since he was born! You gave us all a gift by immersing us every day in this other form of communication—and, retrospectively, I see that you also gave yourself a gift by creating an atmosphere very conducive to good behavior. Searching you out online has been a great pleasure. I love learning that you are a writer and a meditator, two vocations I aspire to myself.
best wishes,
Rachel Mason Dentinger

I am amazed and delighted to hear from you. I absolutely remember you from my years of teaching 5th grade at Sheridan. You were an optimist girl, a good student, full of smiles, and fun to have in class. I can still see you bounding down the hall in the morning. I stood outside the classroom door every morning with my hand out for the homework. You always had yours done. Those were really good years for me as a teacher, and I’m glad you remember that year fondly.

One of my greatest pleasures was exposing my students to sign language and the penpal relationship we had with 5th graders at the Faribault School for the Deaf. Do you remember our field trip to their campus?

I love knowing you’re a mother, writer, and meditator. I’d like to hear more about what has happened since…hmmm… 198__(?)! Are you on facebook?

Teri & Rachel, it touches my heart that you found each other through Emily Dickinson on red Ravine. I teared up when I read Rachel’s comment, a student’s life changed by a great teacher. I’ve had three teachers like that in my life, two as a child, one as an adult, and they completely changed me and the direction I walked thereafter.

Rachel, thanks for leaving your comment here. And Teri, you must have been a fabulous teacher for the little ones. I didn’t know you then, and can only imagine. But you’ve added a richness through your pieces on red Ravine that I am certain you carried into your classrooms every day. Thanks so much for your contributions. And for being who you are.

I certainly do remember our field trip to Faribault, as does my mother, who was a chaperone on the trip. It’s interesting, though, because it was actually a different field trip—to the McDonald’s across the street from Sheridan—that I remember even more vividly! You took us to McDonald’s and had us communicate only in sign language while we were there. This made such a strong impression on me because people were rather cruel to us and they assumed, naturally, that we couldn’t hear the rude comments they made. Did you take students on this trip every year and was it always like that? And maybe you remember it differently, in any case. I would hardly be surprised if my 5th-grader’s memory of the occasion misrepresented it somehow.

I am on Facebook and would love to connect that way and catch up on all of the happenings since….1988! It would be great if you would find me, I am the only Rachel Mason Dentinger. 🙂

When you started red Ravine, I’ll bet one of your known, long-term goals was not to re-unite 5th graders with their teachers! Our efforts in life lead to wonderful results when we just keep showing up.

Yes. The trip to McDonald’s. You may recall it was practice for our field trip to the Faribault School for the Deaf. I wanted an activity to drive home a point to you, my students, about sensitivity. I couldn’t have planned a more perfect reaction from the employees and other patrons. Their rude comments woke you all up. I remember quite a debriefing session in Room 300 when we got back.

That was the one and only year I did the McDonald’s trip. The next year, teachers were given a directive we could only leave the school grounds for academic field trips. Of course, in this case, ice cream at McDonald’s *was* academic…look how deep the lesson penetrated with you.

You’re making me a little lonesome for my days as a teacher, Rachel. I taught for 21 years…a good run.

Teri, I had no idea but I am so happy to have witnessed the reunion. I remember when I went to visit Mrs. Juarez, my 8th grade English teacher in Pennsylvania about 5 or so years ago. It was the first time I had seen her since I was a young one. She seemed so much the same to me and I loved her for that. She was retired but remembered all the stories of those years. So many memories. I hope I get to see her again some day. A great teacher sticks with you for life. What a gift that Rachel found you and was able to let you know what you meant to her. I’m also reminded that great writers like Emily stick with us, too, and continue to teach long after they have left this earth. I am sure she had no idea her home would some day be a destination for writers and readers who admire her work.

[…] inspiration by the Gihon River in the heart of the Green Mountains. Her last piece for red Ravine, Emily’s Freedom, is a photo essay about what she learned on a writing pilgrimage to Amherst, Massachusetts to visit […]

[…] writing pilgrimage to the Amherst, Massachusetts home of poet Emily Dickinson inspired the essay, Emily’s Freedom. At the end of September, Teri will be flying into Atlanta, Georgia to embark on her latest writing […]